Chapter 17

ISABELLA’S POV

 

My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. The sting of the slap still burns across my palm. His hot, demanding kiss lingers on my lips feels far too familiar. For one dangerous second, I almost melted into him, giving him every power over my body...over me. That is the part that terrifies me the most.

 

I grip the steering wheel tightly and force myself to breathe. I will not cry. I will not fall apart. Not for him. Not again.

 

The drive home is a blur of traffic and racing thoughts. Every time I close my eyes, I see the look on his face just before I hit him, the hunger, the regret, the stubborn determination. He had no right to kiss me like that. He had no right to pull me back into that fire after three years of silence and pride.

 

When I finally park in front of the house, I sit still for a moment, collecting myself and my already feeble diginity. Then I open the door and step inside.

 

“Mommy!”

 

Lila’s high-pitched squeal is the first thing I hear. She comes running as fast as her little legs can carry her, her soft curls bouncing in the air, while clutching her favorite bear tightly under her arm. She launches herself at me with complete trust. I catch her and lift her up, burying my face in her hair. She smells like baby shampoo and sunshine.

 

“I missed you,” she whispers against my neck, patting my cheek with her tiny hand.

 

Behind her, Liam stands with his arms crossed, looking every bit the serious two-year-old man. “Mommy, the truck broke again,” he announces. “I fixed it better this time. Look.” He holds up his toy with a piece of cardboard taped as a new bumper. “Now it won’t crash. It’s stronger. Like me.”

 

I laugh despite the storm still swirling inside me. “You’re very smart, Liam. My little genius.”

 

He puffs out his chest proudly. “I know.”

 

The next hour is pure medicine to my heart. I sit on the living room floor with both of them, watching Liam explain his latest “invention” in serious detail while Lila climbs into my lap and demands to be rocked. Their laughter and small voices slowly push the memory of Ethan’s kiss to the edges of my mind. These two are my real life. They are the reason I walked out of that office and the reason I will keep walking away if I have to.

 

Later that evening, after the twins are bathed and put to bed, I dress up and go to visit my father. He looks stronger today. Some color has returned to his face, and he can now sit up without help.

 

“You look tired, Bella,” he says gently.

 

“Long day,” I reply, taking his hand. “But good. The business is moving forward.”

 

He studies me for a long moment. “You’re carrying a lot. You don’t have to do it alone.”

 

I force a smile. “I’m not alone. I have the twins. And Sofia. And you.”

 

He squeezes my hand. “When will I meet them?”

 

“Soon,” I promise. “Very soon.”

 

The words feel heavy. Introducing the twins means opening a door I have kept carefully locked. But looking at my father now, I know the time is coming.

ETHAN’S POV

I stand in the middle of my office long after the door closes behind her. My cheek still stings and the sound of the slap still echoes in my ears. But of all things...I can still taste her on my lips ... soft, warm, and unwillingly responsive for those few seconds before she pulled away.

 

I did not expect the slap. But I also did not expect her to melt into the kiss, even for a moment.

 

I walk to the window and stare out at the city lights. Julian’s voice from earlier still ringing in my head. *Your pride is holding you back.* He was right. I spent three years searching for her while clinging to my ego. Today I finally did something real and she slapped me for it.

 

I pick up my phone and call him.

 

Julian answers on the second ring, already laughing. “Please tell me you didn’t get slapped.”

 

I stay silent.

 

His laughter grows louder. “You did! You absolute idiot. You finally kiss the woman and she hits you? This is gold.”

 

“Shut up,” I mutter.

 

“No, seriously,” he continues, still amused. “This is progress. At least you did something instead of brooding in that empty penthouse. She slapped you because she still feels it. If she felt nothing, she would have just walked away. You got under her skin.”

 

I rub my jaw. “She walked out.”

 

“Of course she did. You’ve spent three years teaching her that you can’t be trusted with her heart. She has every right to protect herself. But don’t you dare stop now. Keep the pressure on. Use that business deal. Force the meetings. Make her see you again and again until she can’t keep pretending you don’t matter.”

ISABELLA’S POV

The next morning, I open my laptop after the twins have settled into their morning play and see Ethan’s email. Another face-to-face meeting. Three days from now. At his office.

 

I stare at the screen for a long time. Part of me wants to refuse. Part of me knows I cannot. 

 

I type a short, professional reply confirming the time. No greeting. No warmth. Just the necessary words.

 

That evening, while the twins play in the living room, I sit with Sofia on the porch.

 

“He kissed me,” I say quietly.

 

Sofia almost drops her tea. “What?”

 

“In his office. After the meeting. He kissed me and I almost… I slapped him and left.”

 

Sofia studies my face carefully. “How do you feel?”

 

“Angry. Shaken. And scared that part of me still wants him.”

 

She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Then you keep fighting that part. You have two beautiful children who need you steady. You have a career that is finally yours. Don’t let him pull you back into something that already broke you once.”

 

I look through the window at Liam and Lila. Liam is building another tower of blocks while explaining to Lila why it needs “stronger foundations.” Lila listens with wide eyes, then claps when it stands. Their pure happiness settles something inside me.

 

“I won’t,” I whisper. “I can’t.”

ETHAN’S POV

It has been three days after the kiss, but here I am standing in my office waiting for her. The neccessary documents are ready. Everything about this meeting is legitimate ... but I know I arranged it earlier than necessary. I needed to see her again.

 

When she walks in, she is the picture of professional composure. Cream blouse, dark trousers, hair pulled back neatly. She does not smile nor does she offer small talk. She simply sits down, opens her laptop, and gets straight to business.

 

We work for nearly two hours. The conversation stays strictly about numbers, timelines, and market strategy. She is sharp, prepared, and completely closed off. Every time I try to steer the discussion toward anything personal, she redirects it with cool precision.

 

When the meeting ends, she closes her laptop and stands.

 

“I’ll send the final adjustments by tomorrow morning,” she says. “Please send any further comments to my email.”

 

She turns toward the door.

 

This time I do not stop her. I watch her leave, the memory of the slap and the kiss still fresh. She is stronger than before. More guarded. More determined to keep me at a distance.

 

But I am no longer the man who will let pride win.

 

I will keep showing up. I will keep the meetings coming. And eventually, she will have to face what still exists between us.

 

Whether she is ready or not.